


The Mirror's Magic Sights

by reine_des_corbeaux



Series: My Tongue Could Utter [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sex Work, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Feminization, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Mirror Sex, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reine_des_corbeaux/pseuds/reine_des_corbeaux
Summary: Elias pays Martin a visit. Martin suffers because of it.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Series: My Tongue Could Utter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050707
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	The Mirror's Magic Sights

Elias never announces his presence when he comes to call on Martin in the evenings. Martin knows he could do so if he so desired, because Elias always leaves his card when he comes in the daylight, or on the nights when Martin entertains, but on the nights when Martin is alone, Elias always slips in late, like a man with something to hide. Once inside Martin’s house, Elias is never predictable. Sometimes he waits in the parlour and sends word that he wants Martin dressed in emerald green, and then Jon must scramble to clothe him properly. But more usually, he comes directly to Martin, whether Martin is ready for him or not. 

Such is the case this evening, and Elias doesn’t make much ceremony of the occasion, though he did send word beforehand of his call. That was enough time, really, for Jon to dress Martin in a combination trimmed with green ribbon and the matching corset that always made his ribs ache when he wears it for too long. But he looks beautiful, at least, with just a hint of colour dabbed expertly onto his cheeks and lips. The mirror and the soft lamplight make that much obvious. In the golden glow he looks painted, like a character in some vast tableau framed by the mirror’s gilded edges. 

Martin hates the mirrors, and if Elias hadn’t ordered them arranged around the room, he would have them all taken away to the cellar so that he wouldn’t be confronted with his own image no matter where he looked. But as it stands, everywhere Martin turns, he sees himself reflected, and sees the doll Elias has turned him into, a lace-clad thing made only for the pleasure and amusement of others. Even his bed provides no respite, with the mirror on the ceiling beaming down on him as it does now, reflecting lustrous sheets and Martin’s own body nestled against Elias. 

“Martin,” Elias says softly, taking his chin in his hand and guiding Martin’s face towards him, “stop being petulant. It’s not as though you haven’t got a choice here.” 

He’s being nearly sweet tonight, Martin thinks, for already Elias has unlaced him with expert gentleness, rather than pulling his corset tighter, or simply leaving it in place as he works Martin’s limbs and torso into some kind of improbable position despite the garment’s constricting pressure. He’s even started to undo Martin’s combination, and already one sleeve hangs off Martin’s shoulder. In the mirror behind Elias, Martin catches a glimpse of himself, all dishevelment, bare skin, and steely, determined eyes. He’s almost beautiful like this, he thinks, and feels a strange stab of pride at the thought, and then an equal pang of shame. 

“What choice?” Martin mutters, soft enough that he hopes Elias can’t hear it. 

Elias does hear it, of course, and he slips the other sleeve off Martin’s shoulder just in time to twist Martin’s nipple viciously as soon as the fabric falls to his waist. Martin gasps at the pain, and his cock jumps. Elias seems to feel this, or otherwise to know, for he chuckles softly, and soon he’s easing Martin out of his garments and back onto the bed. 

“You have two choices,” he says at last, once Martin is looking at Elias and at the mirror above him, smooth and dark, punctuated only by the candlelight and Martin’s pale and naked body spread out like an offering on an ancient altar. “You can look me in the eye when I fuck you, or you can keep your eyes on the mirror.” 

Last time, Elias held eye contact with Martin so long that Martin thought he’d burn up under Elias’s relentless gaze. So it’s easy to choose, even if the choice makes Martin want to vomit. 

“The mirror.” 

“Good boy.” Elias nods approvingly, stroking a stray curl out of Martin’s eyes. 

Martin’s good at what he does-- he’ll never deny that. He knows what Elias wants, and that’s for him to hold his legs open, make himself ready for Elias to take him, use him as he wishes. In the mirror, Martin sees himself as a strange, ungainly creature, hips propped up, legs opened and raised, his cock half-hard as Elias runs an appreciative finger around the rim of his hole. 

“Prepared already?” Elias says. “Eager, weren’t you.” 

He presses his finger slowly into Martin’s already-slicked arse, crooking it against him in a way that sends a sharp jolt of pleasure coursing through Martin’s body. Martin doesn’t look to Elias, only looks up to the mirror and to his own face, to the startled ‘O’ his mouth makes as Elias idly fucks his finger in and out. _This isn’t so bad,_ Martin thinks. He knows as soon as it passes his mind that he’s made a mistake to think such a thing. 

As though he’s read Martin’s mind, Elias withdraws his finger. In the mirror, Martin watches Elias line his cock up with Martin’s arse, and then he feels the familiar stretch of it sliding into him. He gasps a little, but keeps his eyes on the mirror, at least until Elias bottoms out within him, and Martin’s hips twitch towards him. There’s not much of Martin’s body unobstructed to his own view now as Elias leans over his body, bracing his hands at Martin’s shoulders as he withdraws and then thrusts back in. His cock drags against the spot in Martin that makes him whimper with pleasure, trying to meet Elias and maintain their connection in any way he can, and in the mirror, Martin sees his face flush red. His cock’s fully hard now, leaking against his stomach and his eyes flutter shut just for a moment as Elias leans down to whisper in Martin’s ear. 

“I told you to keep looking in the mirror,” Elias whispers, punctuating his speech with a particularly brutal thrust. Martin cries out, heedless of who might hear. “But you can’t, can you? Inside you’re still rebellious and petulant even after all these years of my tutelage.” 

He bites down then against Martin’s shoulder, and Martin wails. Maybe he is recalcitrant and rebellious, but he’s too lost in sensation to throw any accusations back at Elias. Martin can only moan as another thrust drags within him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge of his pleasure. But he looks at the mirror, and looks at himself. In that instance, everything from before falls away-- the elegance, the ways in which Martin has held himself firm and kept some shreds of dignity even as he’s dressed up and paraded in front of his gentlemen-- everything gone. He sees only Martin Blackwood, the penniless clerk who ran to the first offer of better wages extended to him, painted like the harlot he is, with tear tracks running down his face. When he wails again, he’s not sure if it’s a sob of pleasure or one of despair. 

“Now that we’ve established this,” says Elias very quietly, “you will keep your eyes on the mirror. I want you to see what your face looks like when you finally break.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's more courtesan!Martin AU! This time, Elias/Martin edition. 
> 
> A combination is a one-piece late Victorian undergarment. Martin's is based on [this gorgeous example](https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/157185?searchField=All&sortBy=Relevance&ft=combination&offset=0&rpp=20&pos=12) in the Met, albeit with a modified color scheme. 
> 
> Written for Kinktober Day 19: Mirror Sex. 
> 
> Title from Tennyson's 'The Lady of Shalott'.


End file.
